Heroes of Meridell
by fleagirl125
Summary: ...Suddenly, he heard a swoosh, like the flap of wings, and before he knew it a large red sword was being held to his neck. Jeran's gaze went to his reflection in a nearby mirror, and saw behind him, Valrigard the traitor...


As Jeran walked down the long dark corridor that led to the dungeons, the cold night air brushed againts his face, bringing with it the sweet scent of the cooking fires. He liked it; it reminded him of a poem he once read. But that was neither here nor there. And as Jeran made his way to the deepest, darkest part of the castle, he wished that he was anywhere by here. Guarding the prisoners was exceedingly dull.

Jeran shifted his cane a little. The healers said that when Kass shoved Jeran off the cliff, despite the fact that Psellia had caught him, his entire right leg had been crushed. It was the impact they said. They said that he would have to let it heal, but it would take a while. No battles until then, they told him and a very disappointed King Skarl.

"Why can't they just mend it quickly?" Kayla protested over dinner one night. "Isn't that what healers are supposed to do? Besides that doesn't mean that -"

Jeran had toned the rest of Kayla's ranting, and pretented to be particulary interested in his meal.

"Well it's only for a little while isn't it?" Lisha prompted, cutting Kayla short. "Right Jeran?" Jeran looked up from his soup, and nodded his head. "And your leg will get better eventually. But until then I think you should take it easy."

Jeran could tell Lisha was trying her hardest to contain her joy of being able to spend more time with her brother.

So Jeran traded in his sword for a cane, and his armor for a traveling cloak.

"Jeran! Come quick!"

Jeran wheeled around to find one of the largest guards in the Order running towards him.

"Easy Rhog. What seems to be the problem here?"

"It's one of the newer guards! We found him, bound and gagged, lying unconscious in a supply closet!"

"What!" shouted Jeran. "Take me to him. I want to- yes, Bandro?"

"Jeran! Jeran, I have terrible news!" Bandro was out of breath. He looked terrified.

"What is it Bandro?" Jeran said with a sigh. He had never felt this tired in his life.

"It's Valrigard sir! He has escaped!"

"Sound the alarm!" Jeran ordered, "I want a guard patrolling every corridor. Rhog I want you to tend to the gagged prisoner, make sure he is allright. Try to ask him what happened."

Bandro and Rhog both nodded in acknowledgment, but before he left, Rhog turned to Jeran and asked, "What about you?"

"I'm going after Valrigard."

Jeran sprinted down the corridor, despite the pain in his right leg. He couldn't worry about that, he had a duty to his King. Jeran paused for a moment, and became very, very still. He could have sword he had just seen the shadow of a winged figure floating above him. Jeran merely shrugged and went back to his search, but once or twice he caught himself looking over his shoulder, his hand on the handle of his cane.

Suddenly, he heard a swoosh, like the flap of wings, and before he knew it a large red sword was being held to his neck. Jeran's gaze went to his reflection in a nearby mirror, and saw behind him, Valrigard the traitor.

Valrigard was no longer the handsome, young Draik that Jeran remembered. His wings were torn and looked like worn leather that had been strapped to his back. There was a niche in his left ear, and blotches in his right. He had premature lines on his face, making him look much older than he actually was. There was a hungry, determined look in Valrigard's eyes that Jeran had never seen before. It was frightening, and it took a lot to frighten Jeran.

"Where is the way out of here?" Valrigard croaked. His voice was hoarse, as though he had long since lost the habit of using it. Jeran didn't say anything. He mearly clenched his teeth together and hoped that he looked menecing.

"Let us try this again." He said. "Where is the way out of here?"

"And why should I tell you that?" Jeran hissed.

"Because that is the kind of person you are, Jeran," said Valrigard coolly, "or are my needs just too far beneath you?"

How dare he? How dare he, Valrigard the traitor, speak to Jeran in such a manner? How could he show his face after what he did? But what did he care about honor, he had proven that a long time ago.

The door creaked open. Valrigard froze.

"What's the matter?" Jeran mused. "Scared?"

"Listen," Valrigard snaped, "I don't have time for this. I- look, just hear me out. I beg of you!"

It took a moment for these words to register. Jeran couldn't believe what he was hearing. A criminal had just asked him, Jeran, knight of Meridell, to "hear him out." Outrageous! But a nagging, Lisha like voice in the back of his head was telling him to hear what this Draik had to say. Slowly, he nodded.

Valrigard plunged into the story of how he was betrayed by one of King Skarl's closest advisors, and how he was punished for a crime he did not commit. He went on for about ten minutes, only stopping to see if any one was coming. Jeran was listing intently. A thousand things, racing through his mind. The story was so, absurd. And yet...

"So will you help me?" asked Valrigard. There was a sort of pleading look in his eyes.

Jeran thought for a moment. If he were to help Valrigard, and get caught, then that would mean he would be sentence to exile, or worse. But if he didn't, then he knew it would plague him for life. The punishment for trying to escape was severe.

But on the off chance that Valrigard was lying?

But what if he is telling the truth! Said that annoying voice in the back of Jeran's head. He knew what he had to do. What he _should_ do.

But still, if Valrigard was lying...

"All right, fine!" he said, without really meaning to.

"You will?" asked Valrigard, as though he thought Jeran was joking. Jeran sighed. In truth, he was talking to that stupid little voice. He didn't mean to say anything out loud.

"Yes," he said quietly, "yes I will."


End file.
